


Side Effects May Vary

by CommanderPuff



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12980430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderPuff/pseuds/CommanderPuff
Summary: “You come here often?” That was definitely one of Clarke’s weakest pickup lines, but it was the only thing she could think to ask the woman.“I pop in from time to time,” the brunette replied.The bartender set Clarke’s fresh glass of whiskey down in front of her.“Are you waiting for someone?” Clarke asked.The question brought a small smile to the brunette’s face. “No. My plans were to come in, have a drink, and then go home. But I wouldn’t mind some company if you’re offering.”“I’m Clarke,” the blonde held out her hand towards the brunette.The brunette’s smile grew as she took the blonde’s hand in a firm shake. “Lexa.” She snatched up her glass of scotch and finished off the rest of the drink. After tossing a couple of bills onto the counter, Lexa stood. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”





	1. All Work and No Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not sponsored by McDonald's.

The morning was cloudy and cold as Clarke sat on the bench at the Polis City bus stop between thirty-first and ninth street. Shoving her hands into the warm pockets of her zipped up, navy blue hoodie, the blonde silently scolded herself for not grabbing a warmer jacket before going out.

A bus that Clarke wasn’t waiting for came and went. Her foot began to tap the ground impatiently. Late. Why were these guys always late? Better question: why were these guys allowed to always be late? If Clarke or any of her friends even stepped a toe out of line then Wallace would have no problem sending Emerson to blow their brains out.

Her phone vibrated in her front pocket. Clarke dug her phone out and read the message that flashed across the screen. A text message from Raven asking if she was going to Tondc later this evening. As Clarke typed back her usual response that she was always up for a round of drinks, a large, beefy hand snatched up the black backpack that rested beside her feet. Clarke lifted her head up just in time to catch sight of the large man’s backside as he casually swung the backpack over his shoulder and rounded the corner.

Well...the pickup was done. Late, as always, but done.

Clarke took the next bus and got off three blocks from her apartment. From there she walked the rest of the way home with every intention of taking a nice little nap to catch up on some of the sleep she had been missing these past few days.

 

* * *

 

  
“Clarke! Over here!”

A familiar hand shot up into the air and waved back and forth. The door to The Tondc Bar closed behind her as Clarke immediately spotted Raven at a table with Octavia, Bellamy, and Murphy. The blonde made her way over to the table, spotting Jasper and Monty over near the pinball machine along the way.

“We’re already knee deep into round two,” Raven announced as Clarke reached the table. “You got some catching up to do, Griffin.”

“I didn’t realize this was a competition,” Clarke replied.

“It’s _always_ a competition with her,” Octavia commented.

“Don’t be jealous that you can’t keep up, Blake,” Raven smirked as she took another sip of her beer.

“I carried you home last night, Rae,” Bellamy replied.

“The game was about how much you could drink, not how well you could walk after,” Raven said.

Clarke left the table as the bickering started to heat up and made her way over to the bar. These evenings with her friends were the best part of the day. Regardless of whatever happened, whether good or bad, these nights at Tondc always made everything so much sweeter. When they were all together like this, laughing and having a good time, it was easier to forget about the deal they had all agreed to.

The blonde put in her usual order, and as she stood by the bar waiting for her drink, Clarke couldn’t help but notice a very pretty brunette seated at the bar just a few stools down. Long brown hair and pretty green eyes. She looked fresh off of work too in a grey blouse and black dress pants. As her blue eyes lingered on the beauty just a few bar stools over, Clarke found herself wondering what the woman was doing here. Obviously having a drink. A very expensive scotch by the look of it. But was she waiting for someone? Was she just here for a drink or something more?

The second the brunette turned her head to look in Clarke’s direction, the blonde quickly planted her attention elsewhere. Thankfully, Clarke didn’t have to awkwardly stand at the bar much longer as the bartender placed her glass of whiskey down in front of her.

“Thanks,” Clarke tipped the bartender and immediately returned to her friends who seemed to be finished bickering about the various drinking games Raven had concocted over the years.

“So,” Clarke said as she situated herself between Raven and Murphy. “What’s tonight’s game?”

Raven smirked. “Don’t act like we didn’t just see you check out that girl over at the bar.”

Clarke felt heat rise to her cheeks as she quickly took a generous sip of her drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were checking her out,” Raven persisted.

“Was not,” Clarke replied.

“We all saw you staring at her,” Raven gestured to the rest of the group around the table.

“You were staring at her,” Octavia agreed.

“It was just for a second,” Clarke said.

“It was longer than that,” Murphy added.

Clarke took another large sip of her whiskey. She shouldn’t have even bothered trying to lie to these guys. “In my defense, she’s really pretty.”

“Go talk to her,” Raven said.

Clarke let out a laugh and shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?” Octavia asked.

“She’s completely out of my league,” Clarke replied before finishing off her whiskey. “We’re also assuming that she’s even interested in women.”

“She seemed to like what she saw when she checked you out,” Octavia shrugged.

Wait. What? Clarke glanced back towards the bar where the pretty brunette still sat, nursing her scotch. It was entirely possible that her friends were just messing with her, but if they were telling the truth and the green eyed beauty had checked her out in return then…

“I think I’m going to get another drink,” Clarke said before grabbing her empty glass and made her way back over to the bar. She could hear her friends shouting out words of encouragement which only made the blonde feel more awkward and embarrassed rather than confident.

Clarke decided to be bold and took the empty seat to the left of the pretty brunette. She waved down the bartender and ordered another whiskey. Then she shifted her attention back to the brunette who hadn’t made much progress on her scotch. “You come here often?” That was definitely one of Clarke’s weakest pickup lines, but it was the only thing she could think to ask the woman.

“I pop in from time to time,” the brunette replied.

The bartender set Clarke’s fresh glass of whiskey down in front of her.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Clarke asked.

The question brought a small smile to the brunette’s face. “No. My plans were to come in, have a drink, and then go home. But I wouldn’t mind some company if you’re offering.”

Fuck yeah.

“I’m Clarke,” the blonde held out her hand towards the brunette.

The brunette’s smile grew as she took the blonde’s hand in a firm shake. “Lexa.” She snatched up her glass of scotch and finished off the rest of the drink. After tossing a couple of bills onto the counter, Lexa stood. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Clarke had no objections as she quickly downed her whiskey and followed Lexa towards the exit. The blonde glanced over towards her friends who were all shouting far more encouragement than anyone would need in such a situation. Clarke followed Lexa out of the bar and over towards the parking lot. Blue eyes selfishly roamed the brunette’s backside until they both came to a halt next to a grey Mercedes Benz.

Lexa fished out her keys and unlocked the car before opening the driver’s side door. “Get in.”

“I’m more accustomed to using the backseat, but sure,” Clarke commented as she walked around the car and slipped into the front passenger’s seat.

There was an awkward bit of silence as the two of them sat in the car while Lexa started up the engine. Clarke had plenty of experience with one time occasions with other women, but usually this was the part where they would already be kissing and taking each other’s clothes off in the backseat. Of course, that didn’t mean Clarke wasn’t open to having sex in other places within the car.

“You didn’t check in last night.”

And with those words, whatever fantasy that had been forming within the blonde’s head shattered as reality snuck right back in.

 

* * *

 

 

**One Month Ago**

Fuck. She was _screwed_. 

Clarke darted into a narrow alleyway, heart thundering in her ears and the soles of her shoes slamming against the pavement. She should have figured it out sooner. The pickup had gone too smoothly. A new face had arrived to pick up the bag instead of Wallace's usual guys. She should have known then, but it was too late now. All that mattered now was getting the hell out of here.

The blonde chanced a glance over her shoulder. The woman was still right on her tail. Shit. Clarke continued to run down the alley, her legs and lungs already burning from the sudden, unexpected exercise. The narrow alleyway came to an abrupt end, dumping both Clarke and her relentless pursuer back onto another busy street.

Shoving her way through the endless stream of people, Clarke kept on running. She cast another glance over her shoulder and found her pursuer starting to fall behind thanks to the snail paced people who had opted to stand in the way instead of moving aside. A flash of relief brought a small smile to the blonde’s face. Maybe she wasn’t completely fucked.

Spotting another alleyway up ahead, Clarke rushed towards it. The blonde looked over her shoulder again. The woman was no longer on her tail, still battling the busy crowds.

Clarke rounded the corner into the alley. The smile that been growing on her face dropped away entirely at the sight of a car speeding down the other end of the alleyway, coming straight at her. Feet locking into place, Clarke watched as the car came roaring towards her. She should run. Get out of the way. _Do something_. But she couldn’t get her legs to move. All she could do was stand there, and watch the last seconds of her life tick by.

The screeching of tires drowned out all other sound as the car came to a halt, the vehicle's front bumper coming to rest only inches from where the blonde stood.

Clarke released a breath. Shit. She had almost-

Something, or rather some _one_ , collided into the blonde from behind. It wasn’t until Clarke was bent over the hood of the car that she realized that the collision had been more of a shove as a hand kept the blonde pinned the hood while another grabbed her wrist. Clarke heard a car door open as her arm was brought behind her back.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” a voice behind her said. Clarke wasn’t sure if the person was talking to her or not. She definitely wasn’t smiling right now. “That was an incredibly stupid idea.”

The blonde felt a handcuff wrap around her wrist.

“It worked,” another voice responded as the hand that was pinning Clarke to the hood vanished, only to grab her free hand and yank it behind her back as well. A second later, the adjoining cuff clicked around her other wrist. A hand grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her off the hood of the car. Clarke’s blue eyes immediately settled onto the woman who had _collided_ into her.

It came as no surprise to Clarke that the woman who now stood beside her was the woman who had been pursuing her this whole time. Long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, though several strands were coming loose thanks to their little jog. She wore a brown coat over a grey shirt and a simple pair of jeans. Yet, Clarke couldn’t help but acknowledge that the woman made the unremarkable outfit look good. The woman’s green eyes, though, were still focused on the driver who had almost run her down.

The blonde’s gaze shifted to another woman, this one a few inches taller, who stood beside the still running car, a proud smirk on her face. She also wore rather unremarkable, everyday clothes, her dark blonde hair hanging loose.

“And if it hadn’t?” the green eyed beauty questioned.

The older woman shrugged. “Then we would pick someone else. Who cares. Just get in the car so we can get going.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Clarke managed to ask.

The brunette dug her hand into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a thin black leather wallet. She flashed a badge in front of Clarke’s face before quickly shoving the wallet back into her coat pocket. “Police. Let’s go.”

Yeah. She was screwed.

 

* * *

 

  
Clarke had only been in the back of a police car two times in her life. Once, when she had been caught with her friends breaking into their high school as part of a grand senior prank, and the second time involved quite a bit of alcohol, a whole lot of vomiting, and a fake ID. While the first experience was a far clearer memory than the second, Clarke couldn’t deny that this police car was the nicest one she had ever been in. Then again, this wasn’t exactly a police car, but more of a black, four door, Nissan with two undercover police officers seated in the front. Still, sitting on a cushioned seat with handcuffs on was better than sitting on hard plastic.

“Fine,” the brunette sighed. “You win.”

Clarke looked up from the black car seat cushions she had been admiring. The green eyed beauty and the older woman had been arguing for the past five minutes about whether or not to stop for food before heading back to the station. The brunette had considered the idea a waste of time and wanted to get back to the station as soon as possible. The darker blonde countered with the fact that she was hungry. It was the older woman’s persistence that won.

“Consider it a victory meal,” the older woman suggested as she pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot. “We got our perp.”

“ _I_ got our perp,” the brunette replied. “ _You_ almost killed her.”

There was a long line for the drive thru, but that didn’t seem to bother the older woman who flipped through various radio stations while they waited. The green eyed beauty had been quiet for some time until they were next in line to give their order. The brunette turned around in her seat and looked back at Clarke who hadn’t said anything since she had been placed in the back of the car.

“Do you want anything?” the brunette asked.

“Criminals don’t get McDonald's,” the older woman immediately spoke up.

“Anya, _please_ ,” the green eyed beauty replied. “If it bothers you that much, I’ll pay.”

Anya grumbled but didn’t say anything more. The brunette returned her attention to Clarke, waiting to hear what the blonde wanted. Clarke stayed quiet for a bit, unsure what to even say. Should she say anything? These were cops. Her best bet was to stay silent. That’s what all the lawyers say. But...she was a bit hungry.

“Chicken nuggets,” Clarke said. “And a Sprite.”

The brunette turned back around in her seat as Anya pulled up to place their order. “I’ll have fries and a Coke.”

It took about five more minutes of waiting before they were able to get their food. The brunette directed Anya to park in a spot further away from the other cars.

“You’re getting soft, Lexa,” Anya commented as she parked the car as far away from the other cars in the lot as possible. “Just make her eat with her hands behind her back. You know Wallace's people are resourceful.”

Well, Clarke now knew both officer’s names _and_ they knew about her connection to Wallace. And since the new face that had grabbed the bag full of Red had been Lexa, they also knew about the drug. She was still screwed, but at least she wasn’t going to be hungry. Lexa opened the passenger’s side door and stepped out. Anya remained in the driver’s seat, already digging into her victory meal. The door to Clarke’s right opened and Lexa gestured for Clarke to step out. It only took a minute or two for the brunette to uncuff the blonde’s hands and then cuff them in front of her so Clarke could eat.

“Thanks,” Clarke said as she sat back down in the back seat. Lexa handed her, her McDonald’s bag and her drink before closing the door and settling back into the front passenger’s seat.

Anya kept the radio playing as all three of them ate so it wasn’t entirely awkward.

 

* * *

 

  
The ride from the McDonald’s parking lot to the station was uneventful. When they finally reached the station, Clarke was escorted by both Lexa and Anya to an interrogation room. Of course, the sign of the door claimed it was an interview room, but Clarke knew the truth. The blonde was left the sit alone in the room on an uncomfortable plastic chair with her hands still cuffed in front of her. A metal table was bolted to the floor in front of her, and across the table were two more plastic chairs.

Clarke let out a breath. The unexpected lunch was a nice gesture, but now she needed to keep a clear head and say nothing. No matter what kind of scare tactics these cops decide to use, she had to keep quiet. That was part of the deal she made when she agreed to work for Wallace. If you got caught then you shut up and do whatever time they give you. But if you talked…

The door to the interrogation room opened. Both Anya and Lexa entered. This time, Lexa was carrying a brown file folder. Clarke watched quietly as both officers settled into the plastic chairs across the table.

“Would you like any water or coffee, Clarke?” Lexa asked as she set the file folder down on the table.

Blue eyes fell to the dozens of papers shoved into the folder. Whatever these two were going to unleash upon her, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Plus, they knew her name. Clarke never once told either officer her name, nor did she had an ID on her. This morning’s pickup was supposed to be like all the others. Boring. Today’s plans had consisted of going back to her apartment after the pickup and sleeping.

“I still say we do this my way,” Anya said when Clarke didn’t answer.

“If Clarke doesn’t want to cooperate, then you can have her all to yourself,” Lexa replied. Clarke tried her best to ignore the pleased look on Anya’s face at her fellow officer’s response.

Lexa turned the file folder around and opened it up to reveal several black and white photographs of Clarke at the pickup location over the course of several days. “We’ve been watching you for awhile, Clarke. We know you work for Cage Wallace. We know your role in his organization is to take the drugs from the supplier and hand them off to Wallace’s men for distribution. We also know that you are not the only one.” Lexa flipped through numerous photographs of Clarke until she reached a photograph of the blonde with her friends at their favorite local bar. The blonde’s jaw clenched. No. She wasn’t giving out any names. She wasn’t going to hand over her friends in exchange for any deals.

“We know about Red,” Lexa continued. “The rest of the world might not know, but we do. It’s a very enticing drug. One hit of Red and you have the strength, energy, and stamina to do whatever you want. Better than any energy drink. Except for the side effects. The addiction is what keeps Wallace in business, but you must know about the other side effects.”

Clarke knew. She heard the stories. But she had been told the stories too late. She had already agreed to work for Cage. So she had filed the stories away as a warning to never try the drug.

“My partner and I have worked on a few of the homicide cases involving Red,” Lexa said. “We’ve seen what Wallace’s drug can do, and our job is to put an end to his organization. My partner wants to throw you in prison and then go back out and collect your friends. But I don’t want you. I want Cage Wallace. So I’m willing to offer you a deal in exchange for your help.”

There it is. The reason she’s sitting here and not already in a jail cell. Clarke looked up from the various photographs. Both women sat silently, waiting for the blonde’s answer. Clarke knew if she stayed quiet that Lexa would pack up and walk off with the deal. That’s how all deals worked. There was always a time limit. Take too long and the only option you’re left with is the one you’ve been trying to avoid the whole time. But Clarke wasn’t going to rat out her friends. She had screwed up. She had been lazy and got caught.

“What is the deal?” Clarke asked.

“We have plenty of evidence to put away Wallace’s outside help,” Lexa replied. “But we have nothing on Cage. Whoever we put away will only be replaced in less than a day. We need evidence against Cage Wallace in order to bring his organization down. You would act as our informant to help us collect the evidence we need.”

“I’ve only met the guy once,” Clarke replied. “Cage sends his men to tell us what to do.”

Anya sighed and sat back in her chair. “Figured as much. She’s no good.”

“We would help you, Clarke,” Lexa continued, ignoring her partner’s words. “We don’t need you to get him to confess to everything. We just need enough evidence to connect him to Red.”

“You want me to be rat,” Clarke said. “He’s killed rats before.”

“We know,” Anya replied.

The blonde looked away. This deal sounded an awful lot like suicide. If Cage even suspected her of being a rat then that was it. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Fine,” Lexa conceded and began to collect the photographs and place them neatly back within the file folder. “I’ll take your silence as a refusal.” She closed the folder and stood up. “I’ll leave you with Anya, but I suggest you don’t say anything to her since she is only interested in how many additional crimes she can get you to confess to.” The brunette turned and started towards the door. Lexa had just opened the door when Clarke’s voice brought her a halt.

“You didn’t tell me what I would get in exchange,” Clarke said.

Lexa slowly closed the door and looked over her shoulder. “If everything goes smoothly you would most likely end up in witness protection. But I imagine that’s better than prison.”

So there were only three options at this point. Clarke could shut up, refuse the deal, and take whatever time a judge would give her. She could accept the deal and end up shutting Cage down and get a whole new life as her prize. Or she could accept the deal, fail miserably, and die at Cage’s hands.

At the end of the day, Clarke tried to convince herself that the only reason she accepted Lexa’s deal was because she hadn’t been in the mood to go to prison.


	2. Turn Back Now If You Can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My milkshake brings all the girls to the yard.

“I was drunk and forgot.”

That clearly wasn’t the response Lexa was looking for as the brunette closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Yet, Clarke didn’t know what else to tell her. She was being honest. She had gotten drunk with her friends last night and forgot about checking in with Lexa. But, even if Clarke had remembered, it would have been impossible to slip away from her friends long enough to speak with Lexa. And the only way this plan to bring down Wallace’s entire organization was going to work is if Clarke remained inconspicuous.

After a long moment, Lexa released a breath and opened her eyes. “It is critical that you check in with me on a weekly basis.”

“Nothing happened,” Clarke replied.

“That’s not the point, Clarke.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, but didn’t press the matter further. “Sorry.” She crossed her hands in front of her chest and sat back into the passenger’s seat. “I didn’t realize how much you enjoyed our late night conversations.”

Another breath slipped from the brunette’s lips as she closed her eyes again for a brief moment. “This can’t happen again, Clarke.”

No. It can’t. Blue eyes settled on the dashboard as the blonde’s mind slipped from the present and wandered back where it didn’t need to go. The bold, unwavering confidence that had fueled her decision to flirt with the stunningly gorgeous cop back in Tondc vanished as if it hadn’t been there at all. She can’t fuck up. Not again. She could almost feel the cold touch of metal across her cheek. The hot, foul breath in her ear.

“Clarke.”

And then she was back. Blue eyes shifted away from the dashboard and landed back on Lexa. This wasn’t the first time Clarke found herself questioning whether she had made the right choice by taking the woman’s deal. “It won’t happen again.”

Again, the two of them sat in silence. It was quickly becoming their thing. All of their conversations began this way. Whether over the phone or in person. A simple greeting. An awkward amount of silence before Lexa would start with her usual round of questions. And after Clarke was finished telling the woman that same shit that went down before, the conversation would end. It was strange, though. Clarke often found herself not wanting their late night conversations to end.

“Did you hear anything?” Lexa asked, pulling the blonde out of her thoughts once again. “Anything that could help us guess what Wallace’s next move will be?”

“No,” Clarke replied. Did Wallace even _need_ a next move? With the generous payouts Clarke and her friends were receiving each week, she could only assume that Cage was making plenty off of what he had already built and perfected. He had the drug, the customers, the loyalty of dangerous men, people who needed the money, and the cops couldn't touch him.

“Okay,” Lexa’s attention shifted away from Clarke. “If you hear or come across anything that could help us get to Wallace, let me know. Until then, I’ll see you next week.”

Clarke glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “That’s it?” They had only been in the car for maybe ten minutes at the most.

Confusion seeped into forest green eyes as Lexa looked back over towards Clarke. “Unless you have anything else to tell me.”

“I don’t.”

Lexa looked away again. “Then we’re done.”

Clarke let out a laugh, stealing the brunette’s attention again. “You know that my friends think I’m out here having sex with you. If I walk back in there now they’re going to wonder what happened.”

“We got into an argument,” Lexa suggested. “Tell them it didn’t work out.”

“Or we could just kill some time,” Clarke replied. In truth, the blonde could very easily stroll back in Tondc and claim that something had turned her off from having sex with the pretty brunette. But Clarke didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want this evening conversation to end just yet. Maybe it was the two whiskeys that were fueling these thoughts, but at this point Clarke didn’t care. “Do you need to be anywhere?”

It took a few moments longer than necessary for Lexa to respond. “No.”

A smile tugged at Clarke’s lips. “Want to get something to eat?”

More silence followed as the blonde waited for Lexa’s answer. Clarke wouldn’t be surprised or offended if the brunette declined and tossed her from the car. Their relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. Or as professional as a snitch and an undercover cop can be. Clarke was the one swimming into waters she had no business being in. And her only excuse was that she couldn’t help herself. She liked being around Lexa, as strange as that sounded. She had only known the woman for a month, but something about her drew her in.

“I could eat.”

Success.

“There’s a diner not too far from here,” Lexa continued as she shifted her car out of park. “We could go there.”

Yeah. That sounded pretty good to Clarke.

 

* * *

 

 

The diner Lexa had chosen was a ten minute drive from the Tondc bar. The dinner rush had already come and gone, so by the time Clarke and Lexa strolled in, the place was rather empty except for one or two couples. Clarke selected a booth in the back which Lexa did not object to. When the waitress came by, Clarke ordered a milkshake while Lexa ordered a soda.

“Do you come here often?” Clarke asked as she looked over the menu.

Green eyes were also scanning the menu, though not as intensely as Clarke, when Lexa replied. “Sometimes. When it’s been a long day.”

Blue eyes lifted from the menu to stare across the table. “Has it been a long day?”

Finished with the menu, Lexa set it off to the side. “No, but I thought this would be better than McDonald’s.”

The waitress returned with drinks in hand. Both Clarke and Lexa ordered cheeseburgers.

“So,” Clarke began as she plunged her straw into her milkshake. “What’d you think of Tondc?”

“Pleasant atmosphere. Decent drinks,” Lexa replied, not touching her soda just yet. “I can see why you and your friends frequent it often.”

Clarke took a sip of her milkshake. The blonde couldn’t even remember the last time she had, had a milkshake, but damn this one was good. She gestured to her glass. “Want some?”

“No, thank you, Clarke.”

Clarke sat back in the booth, eyes set on the brunette sitting across the table. “How long have you been doing this?”

“If you’re referring to my job, then four years,” Lexa answered.

“Is that why you’re so…” Clarke struggled for the right word. It wasn’t cold. Although, Lexa did often act cold and disconnected from many emotions other than anger and frustration, but that wasn’t it. There was something else, lingering beneath the surface.

Confusion seeped back into forest green eyes. “So... _what_?”

It was there. On the tip of her tongue, but the word eluded her. “Never-mind.”

Lexa nodded but didn’t say anything. Yet again, silence settled between them before the brunette elected to break it. “How long have you been working for Wallace?”

Clarke smirked. “Shouldn’t you already know that?”

“I know that you work for him,” Lexa replied. “I don’t know how long or why.”

“Almost a year,” Clarke shrugged. “And I’m going to need a lot more alcohol before I get into the why.” She was expecting the brunette to push and pry, but Lexa only nodded and kept quiet.

The waitress returned with their food which prompted Clarke to immediately dig into her meal. Yup. This was way better than McDonald’s.

“So where’s Anya?” Clarke asked around a large bite of burger. “She didn’t want to come to Tondc with you?”

“Anya works her leads,” Lexa said after swallowing her mouthful of food. “I work mine.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a partnership,” Clarke replied before taking another sip of her milkshake.

Lexa shrugged. “We make it work.” She looked up from her cheeseburger. “Since all your friends also work for Wallace, I assume that’s how you guys met?”

“Some,” Clarke replied, her attention still on her food. “But I met Raven a long time ago. My mother has always been looking out for her.”

“Is she the reason you started working for Wallace?”

Clarke smirked. “Like I said. We’re going to need way more booze for that story.” The blonde finished off her cheeseburger, her stomach immensely satisfied. “So, I’ve been debating whether we should just stick to car sex or add in a trip to your place, but I feel like adding in your place would over do it.” The blonde looked up from her now empty plate to find Lexa staring at her, a hint of red rising to the brunette’s cheeks. “What do you think?”

“I’m...not exactly sure what you’re referring to, Clarke.”

“Should we stick to just car sex or take it back to your place,” the blonde clarified.

“That wasn’t...I mean...everything that happened back at the bar was just an act.”

This time, it was Clarke who was confused. “I know. That’s why I’m asking. What should I say happened between us just in case my friends ask?”

Clarke didn’t realize she was seeing it until the moment was over. The softness that lingered beneath Lexa’s colder exterior. Her question had caught the woman off guard. Her flustering smashing holes in the carefully constructed walls she put in place to remain distant. But the blonde had missed the moment, and as quickly as she had brought those walls down, they went right back up.

“Just stick with the car sex,” Lexa replied.

The brunette’s phone started to ring before another word could be said. Lexa dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She barely gave the screen a glance before accepting the call and bringing the phone to her ear. Clarke’s attention shifted back to her milkshake, consuming the last few sips while Lexa took her call. Her gaze wandered towards the window to her left. She watched as cars and people strolled by. Nights in Polis City were always as active as the day.

“I’ve got to go,” Lexa announced, drawing Clarke’s attention back towards her. The brunette fished out her wallet and tossed a couple of bills onto the table. “I’ll drop you off at your apartment.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed. “You know where I live?”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Yes, Clarke. I know where you live. Let’s go.”

The blonde couldn’t fight the small smile that broke out across her face as she slid out from the booth and followed Lexa out of the diner.

 

* * *

 

 

**Three Weeks Ago**

The light flickered and hummed as Clarke entered the tiny mailroom on the ground floor of her apartment building. It had been a really long fucking day. Not only was the day shitty as usual, but tonight had been her first check-in with Lexa. And that had gone down very differently than Clarke had been expecting. Perhaps she had just been watching too much television, but she hadn’t expected her conversation with the woman to be so... _short_. Clarke had nothing new to tell the woman since nothing had happened since the day she had agreed to Lexa’s deal. Instead of relentlessly questioning her about every detail of the last few days, Lexa had simply told her to keep her eyes and ears open until their next chat.

Clarke slid her tiny mailbox key into the lock. This should all be a relief. She had taken a deal that was keeping her out of prison, none of her friends or Wallace’s men suspected her of anything, and the cop she was snitching too wasn’t an asshole. But Clarke wasn’t relieved. At all. In fact, ever since she had agreed to Lexa's deal, she had felt on edge. As if one wrong step would set everything ablaze.

The blonde opened the small mailbox and grabbed a thick yellow envelope along with a few pieces of junk mail and an overdue bill. Despite the shitty week, at least it was pay day. Clarke left the mailroom and climbed three flights of stairs before reaching her apartment. She unlocked her apartment door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Finally. Now she could shed her clothes, take a nice hot shower, and curl up in bed. Clarke kicked her shoes off and flicked on the lights, tossing the mail onto the kitchen counter.

“Did you have a good night out with your friends?”

Feet locking up, Clarke’s gaze shot towards the living room where the very last person she wanted to see was lounging on her couch. Short red hair, dark eyes, a black coat over a pale green shirt, dark green cargo pants, and black boots. Carl Emerson. Cage Wallace’s right hand man. He sat, patiently waiting for the blonde’s answer, but Clarke couldn’t speak. There was no answer she could give. Her mind had gone blank except for the very real and terrifying fact that Emerson was in her living room.

A humorless smile stretched across Emerson’s face. “Good. I hate small-talk. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you, for the last three hours. I had a few of my men search the place before I came. My first thought when my boss informed me about a missing bag and traced it back to you was that you were holding onto it. Either you were using it, or you were making your own profit off of my friend’s product. But my men didn’t find anything.”

Emerson fell quiet and Clarke wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to speak, but she still couldn’t get her mouth to work. The bag. He was talking about the bag Lexa had taken the day Clarke had been caught. Wallace had traced the missing Red back to her and now Emerson was here. She was fucked.

“Where is the bag, Clarke?” Emerson finally asked.

“I...I don’t know,” she tried to swallow back the fear that was crawling up her throat, but it slipped free, twisting around her words. But she didn’t know where the bag was. Lexa hadn’t given her back the bag and it hadn’t occurred to Clarke to ask about the bag until the following morning when another fresh backpack of Red had showed up at her doorstep. And when that day’s pickup had gone smoothly she had figured…

Emerson sighed and stood up. “That’s not a good answer.” His right arm slipped behind his back. “So I’m going to ask you again, and _this_ time I expect the truth.” He brought his arm back around, his fingers now wrapped around a pistol. “Tell me where the bag is, Clarke.”

Blue eyes fell to the pistol. Shit. She needed to move. She needed to say something clever. Do something. But it was like staring at that speeding car all over again. All Clarke could do was stand there and stare as death inched just a bit closer. “I don’t-”

She didn’t remember him moving, but suddenly he was inches away, a rough hand shoving her back into the wall behind her. Her hands immediately lifted to try and pry his hand away from her, but that tactic accomplished nothing. Instead, Emerson pressed the barrel of his pistol against the blonde’s cheek, his finger resting on the trigger.

“Where is the bag?” his voice raised as whatever patience Emerson had left.

“I don’t know!” she didn’t mean to yell but she was losing control. Her heart was pounding against her chest and her vision was beginning to blur. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but feel Emerson press the barrel harder against her cheek.

Shit. She was going to die. _She was going to die_.

“Tell me where it is!”

“I don’t know!” the blonde gasped, hot tears rolling down her face. This was it. Her last moments were going to be right here, staring into cold, dark eyes. “Somebody took it!”

And then the pressure of the cold, metal barrel against her cheek vanished. Emerson dropped the pistol back down to his side, his hand still pressing the blonde’s back against the wall.

“Who?”

Lexa. No. She wasn’t giving up any names. Not that giving up a cop would help her at the moment. But Emerson wasn’t going to leave until she gave him something. Anything. So Clarke let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding and said the first thing that came to mind. “They didn’t give me a name. They just ran by and took the bag.”

“Why didn’t you report this?” Emerson asked.

“Because I knew you would kill me if I did,” Clarke replied.

Emerson nodded but didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be thinking about something by the way his eyes glazed over for a moment. But then the moment was finished and Emerson smiled that same humorless smile as before. “You’re right.”

The barrel of the gun pressed against her cheek again. Clarke closed her eyes, a few more tears slipping free as she started to beg and plead for her life. She didn’t want to die. Not like this. But she had known that this had always been the possible outcome for taking Lexa’s deal. She could have stayed quiet and done her time. But Lexa had tossed freedom onto the table and Clarke had grabbed it.

A hot, foul breath brushed against her ear.

“But my boss is feeling merciful.”

This time, the barrel of the gun and Emerson’s hand vanished, leaving Clarke to lean against the wall. When the blonde opened her eyes, she found Emerson taking a step back as he tucked his gun away.

“It sounds like someone is trying to stake a claim on something that does not belong to them,” Emerson continued. “I’m not surprised. Competition was always bound to happen. But you don’t have to worry, Clarke. This will be dealt with.”

Clarke could barely manage a nod.

Emerson started towards the door but stopped. “This is your one and only warning. This cannot happen again.”

And with those words, he left. Clarke remained rooted in place, staring at the couch where Emerson had been sitting just a few minutes ago. She had been so close. So close. Legs finally giving out, Clarke slid down to the floor, every inch of her body shaking. She didn’t move from that spot for a long while.

 

* * *

 

 

**Present Day**

After dropping Clarke off at her apartment, Lexa drove across the city and deep into the suburbs. It was on a very nice, quiet looking street where Lexa found a sea of red and blue lights. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably as she pulled over along the curb and reached over into the glove box for her badge and gun. She had been working with Anya on these cases involving Red and so far all the homicides had happened within Polis City. The fact that these homicides were now beginning to spill out of the city only meant that things were getting worse.

Lexa quickly holstered her sidearm against her hip before stepping out of her car. She made her way over to a well-kept, two story, brick home that looked identical to all the other houses in this particular neighborhood. She flashed her badge at the officer posted out front before entering the home. The foyer was already crowded with other officers and detectives, but Lexa easily spotted Anya standing beside a corpse and chatting with another officer.

As Lexa made her way over, her gaze fell to the reason this quiet neighborhood was now packed with officers. The body laying face up on the hardwood floor was a young man. No. A teenager. Most likely no older than sixteen or seventeen. Judging by his expensive blood-soaked clothes and the nice house, this was a son of a well-off family. Decent looks too if you swung that way.

“Good. You’re here,” Anya said, pulling Lexa’s attention away from the body. The other officer Anya had been speaking to left. The older woman gestured to the corpse. “Patrick O’Sullivan. A good kid who came from a good family. At least, that’s what all the neighbors say.”

But obviously that wasn’t the whole story since Patrick was now dead in his parents’ home from a gunshot wound to the chest.

“Patrick’s parents were out for the evening,” Anya continued as Lexa’s eyes examined the body. “One of the neighbors called the police complaining about loud music coming from the house. An officer came by the house, knocked on the door, and was attacked by Patrick.”

The teen’s eyes were still wide open, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The red veins in the kid’s eyes were still evident.

“The officer claimed he had no choice but to shoot the kid,” Anya said.

“You think Patrick was using Red,” Lexa replied, her gaze lifting back to her partner.

“A crew is upstairs collecting all the syringes to analyze, but the story fits with the others,” Anya replied. “The victims display varying feats of strength before passing. The swollen blood vessels in the eyes. And there’s more.”

Lexa followed Anya through the house and out the back door. Sitting off to the left near the fence was a small shed. There were only a few officers out in the backyard compared to the house, but as Lexa came closer to the shed she began to see why. First, there was the odor. It tightened the knot in her stomach as her jaw clenched shut in an effort to hold it together. She had come across this odor more times than she would have liked. The rancid smell of rotting flesh.

Anya pushed open the shed door and stepped inside. Lexa followed her partner in, but didn’t need to go any further due to the sight that greeted her. Three red and white coolers were lined up against the shed’s far back wall. One of the coolers was missing a lid, revealing a severed hand and foot floating in water that was once, what Lexa could only assume, ice. Yet, the odor was not coming from the coolers, but from a half eaten, severed arm that rested on top of a workshop table.

Lexa tore her eyes away from the horrors as she fought to keep the meal she had, had with Clarke down. “Do the parents know anything?”

Anya shrugged. “They’re not talking much. Doesn’t really matter. We already know who was supplying the kid. We just need to connect the dots. How’s Clarke doing?”

“She’s fine,” Lexa replied before turning around and walking out of the shed. The fresh air was welcomed relief to what she just witnessed in there. It wasn’t even her first time coming across severed limbs, but each sight was just as unsettling as the first.

Anya followed Lexa out of the shed. “Has she given you anything yet?”

“Nothing on Wallace,” Lexa replied.

“It’s been a month, Lex.”

“These things take _time_ ,” the brunette’s tone coming out harsher than she had intended. “If I push too hard it could expose her.”

“The mayor and the commissioner want answers,” Anya replied. “These Red murders are becoming more frequent and now they’re spilling out of the city. You know what the commissioner will do if we can’t hand him Wallace soon.”

Lexa knew perfectly will what Commissioner Pike would do. Order a roundup of everyone they had dirt on, make sure the press is there for positive public image, and then call it a day. But that would only destroy everything Lexa and Anya had been working on these past few months. They wouldn’t be able to touch Wallace or any of the people in Cage’s organization that mattered, and everyone they would grab would only be replaced.

“The press will be here soon,” Anya continued. “We should head out before they take any unflattering pictures of us.”

Lexa nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, Anya.”

The brunette managed to successfully reach her car before the press arrived. The drive home was short and uneventful. However, Lexa’s thoughts often drifted back to Clarke and how beautiful her smile was.


	3. Working A Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I love writing text messages into my stories!" said no one ever.

Clarke’s typical morning routine included hitting the snooze button three times, pulling herself out of bed on the fourth blaring ring of her alarm, jumping into a pleasantly steaming hot shower, debating what to wear before going with her usual blue hoodie, tee-shirt, and jeans outfit, followed by shoveling food into her mouth. On _this_ particular morning, Clarke accidentally hit the snooze button four times instead of three. With the blonde’s entire routine completely thrown off, Clarke found herself abandoning breakfast in favor of rushing out of her apartment. She snatched up the backpack that waited for her just outside her door, and raced down three flights of steps.

A cold burst of morning air greeted the blonde as she rushed out of her apartment building. She was tempted to head back up to grab a warmer jacket, but the memory of Emerson’s last visit pushed her forward. She couldn’t screw up again. Not if she wanted to see tomorrow. And she _really_ didn’t want to come home to find Emerson waiting for her in her apartment again.

Clarke reached the bus stop between thirty-first and ninth street with a minute to spare. With a sigh, the blonde sat down on the cold bench and placed the backpack at her feet. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, soaking in her victory and calming her racing heart. It didn’t matter if Wallace’s men were always late for the pickup. If his men reported back that she hadn’t been there with the bag…

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Clarke opened her eyes and dipped her hand into her hoodie’s pocket. Fully expecting the text message to be from Raven demanding that she drop by Tondc again, Clarke was more than bit surprised at the name that flashed across her phone’s screen.

_Did something happen?_

Clarke looked up from her phone, blue eyes searching for any sign of the brunette. Lexa had never texted her before. There was never any reason to. Clarke was the one who called Lexa at the end of each week, not the other way around. Except for last evening. Not spotting the brunette or her expensive car, Clarke looked back down at her phone.

_No._

She sent her reply, and Lexa’s response was almost immediate.

_You were late._

Clarke’s gaze jumped up from her phone. She was here. She was definitely here. But where? Her phone vibrated again before Clarke could type back a response.

_You’re never late. What happened?_

Clarke’s fingers danced across her phone’s screen as she constructed her argument that she was not late, but actually early by one minute...but then she stopped and her thumb hit the back arrow, deleting the long, unnecessary response. She typed out one word and sent it.

_Overslept._

It had been a good sleep, though. After Lexa had dropped her off at her apartment, Clarke had collapsed into her bed with a full stomach and had quickly drifted off to sleep. Her sleep hadn’t been restless or riddled with nightmares, but deep and dreamless. A welcomed breath of fresh air compared to the nights when Clarke would wake up screaming.

A bus came and went, and when Clarke didn’t receive any more texts from Lexa, she decided to send another. Why not? There wasn’t anything else to do right now. Wallace’s guy was late, as usual, and Clarke couldn’t go anywhere until she had handed off the bag.

_Where are you?_

This time, Lexa’s response wasn’t as immediate, but her phone soon vibrated.

_Close by._

Clarke rolled her eyes and looked up and down the street once more. Still no sign of her. But Lexa had to be close if she could see her. Her focus dropped back to her phone.

_What’s the point of checking in with you if you’re already following me around?_

Clarke’s gaze lifted up as she looked up and down the street again, this time looking for anyone who may be checking their phone. Her phone buzzed with Lexa’s reply.

_I don’t follow you around._

Clarke highly doubted that. First, Lexa showed up at Tondc. Now she was hiding somewhere nearby. Her phone buzzed again.

_Only in the mornings._

Clarke still doubted that as her fingers typed back her response.

_Having fun?_

Another bus came and went. Wallace’s guy was running later than usual today. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

_Doing my job._

A large hand snatched up the backpack at her feet. Clarke looked up from her phone as the same guy from yesterday swung the bag over his shoulder and kept on walking. He rounded the corner, and then he was gone. Another pickup done. The blonde’s attention returned to her phone. Her fingers danced across her phone’s screen as an idea blossomed to life.

_Wanna grab breakfast? I’m starving._

Again, Lexa’s response wasn’t as immediate, but her phone soon buzzed just as Clarke finished zipping her hoodie all the way up for warmth.

_I’m working._

Clarke smirked as she typed back.

_I thought I was your job._

She stared at her phone, pretty proud of her comeback. Yet, as the minutes ticked by, Clarke’s pride dissolved. Had her comment been too much? With defeat settling in, Clarke was about to grab the next bus when her phone finally buzzed. A smile tugged at her lips at the address Lexa had texted her. Clarke was familiar with the address. It was a small cafe only two blocks away.

Clarke tucked her phone back into her pocket and got up from the bench. She made her way up the next two blocks and found a familiar brunette standing outside of Polis Cafe dressed in a dark green jacket that looked much warmer than the hoodie she was wearing, and a black beanie on top of her head.

“How the hell were you watching me all the way up here?” Clarke asked as she approached.

Forest green eyes pulled away from the passing crowd and landed on the blonde. Lexa’s gaze dropped to take in Clarke’s attire. “You must be cold.”

She was, but that had nothing to do with Clarke’s question. Instead of receiving an answer, Lexa made her way over to the door to the cafe and pulled it open. She held the door open and gestured for Clarke to enter first.

“Thanks,” Clarke said as she stepped into the cafe.

The smell of coffee and baking breads greeted the blonde as she entered the warm cafe. Soft jazz played from the speakers above, mixing with the idle chatter of other patrons. Both Clarke and Lexa put in their orders, and after collecting their drinks (Clarke had ordered a coffee with Lexa had gone with tea), Clarke selected a small table towards the back.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Clarke said as she settled into her seat.

Lexa pulled down the zipper on her coat to reveal a blue and white plaid shirt underneath. She draped her jacket over the back of her chair before taking a seat. “I didn’t conduct my observations here.”

One of the cafe workers stopped by their table and placed a bagel with cream cheese in front of Lexa and a cheese omelette in front of Clarke. Clarke wasted no time digging into her omelette while Lexa proceeded to spread an even amount of cream cheese across her bagel. Clarke shoveled a large bite into her mouth and watched as Lexa prepared her bagel. Blue eyes drifted away from the bagel, noting that Lexa’s hair was down instead of up and the bags beginning to form under her eyes.

Clarke swallowed her mouthful of food. “You look like shit.”

Lexa set her butter knife down but didn’t meet Clarke’s gaze. “It was a long night.”

Clarke stabbed her fork into another piece of her omelette and thought back to the call Lexa had taken last night at the diner. “Do you want to talk about it?” When Lexa didn’t respond, Clarke elected to drop the subject and returned her attention to her food. It was a pretty good omelette. Clarke had only been to this cafe once or twice in passing, and had only tried the coffee.

“There was another homicide yesterday.”

Clarke looked up from her plate. Lexa’s attention was still fixed on her bagel that she hadn’t touched yet.

“It’s starting to spill out of the city,” she continued after a moment. “My boss wants answers, but we have nothing to give him.”

Clarke chewed slowly. She wanted to say something, anything, to help lift the weight that was pressing down on Lexa’s shoulders, but there was nothing to say. She didn’t have anything to give Lexa. She had nothing on Wallace and, unless she got lucky, probably never would. She had only met the guy once. Clarke swallowed her mouthful of omelette that had suddenly gone tasteless as another idea snuck in. The chances of ever crossing paths with Cage again were low, but she could tell Lexa what she did already know about him. But that would require going down memory lane to a place she had already buried and left behind.

“What’ll happen if your boss doesn’t get answers?” Clarke asked.

Lexa set down her cup of tea after taking a sip. “They’ll round up everybody they can and call it a day. They won’t be able to touch Wallace or any of the key players, and Anya and I will be given a new case.”

Right. And since she was being a fucking awful snitch, she’d probably fall into the ‘everybody’ category.

Appetite fading, Clarke poked at what was left of her omelette. “We’re going to need to make a stop before we head back to my place.”

This caught Lexa’s attention as she looked up from her bagel. “I have work, Clarke.”

Clarke stopped poking at her food and set down her fork. “I thought you already were working.” When she got no response from the brunette, Clarke continued. “Look, Wallace doesn’t make mistakes. Anything he needs done, he has his men do for him. I met the guy once, and I’ll probably never run into him again. I can tell you what I already know about him, but we’re going to need to stop at a liquor store because I’m fresh out of booze at my place.”

She’d done it. One of the last things she ever wanted to talk about, and she had just tossed it onto the table. Clarke sat there, waiting for Lexa’s answer, but the woman just sat there and stared at her. Clarke couldn’t read what was going on behind those green eyes and as the silence stretched on, Clarke found it harder to sit still.

Finally, Clarke leaned forward a bit, anxious to break this weird silence. “Unless you prefer going back to your place.”

This earned an immediate response as Lexa blinked before standing up. She had drank quite a bit of her tea, but her bagel had remained untouched. Lexa snatched up her coat and slid it back on. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke hugged a large brown paper bag to her chest, the glass bottles of scotch and whiskey clinking with each step she took up the stairs. She could hear Lexa following close behind. The warmth of her apartment greeted her as Clarke shoved open the door and made her way straight to the kitchen.

“Sorry about the mess,” Clarke said as she purposefully ignored the dirty dishes in the sink and the various discarded clothes strewn across the living room floor. At least the door to her bedroom was closed. That was an even bigger disaster. When she didn’t hear anything from Lexa except for her soft footsteps moving across the living room, Clarke decided to keep her back to the brunette as she lifted both bottles out of the paper bag. She grabbed two clean glasses and brought everything back into the living room where she found Lexa standing near the couch, her coat draped over the back of a chair.

Clarke set the bottles of scotch and whiskey, along with the glasses, down on a small, round living room table in front of the couch.

“Do you live here alone?” Lexa asked.

Clarke sank down into the couch and looked up at Lexa. How was it possible that this woman made every kind of outfit look good? “Yeah. Sometimes Raven and Octavia stop by.” The blonde patted the spot next to her. “You don’t have to stand.”

An awkward moment passed before Lexa stepped over towards the couch and sat down next to Clarke. The moment Lexa was seated, the blonde reached over and grabbed the bottle of scotch and started to twist off the cap.

“I’m good, Clarke,” Lexa said, but that didn’t stop Clarke from pouring out a glass.

“I know. You’re working,” Clarke replied and set the bottle of scotch aside before snatching up her bottle of whiskey. “But drinking alone is no fun.” She poured herself a glass of whiskey, not at all offended or surprised that Lexa didn’t make a move to touch her glass. Back at the liquor store, Lexa had protested the idea of picking up a bottle for herself. Clarke hadn’t cared and had grabbed a bottle of scotch anyways.

Clarke picked up her glass and took a generous sip. It was only a little past one in the afternoon, but day drinking was a fun activity. She didn’t speak for a bit, enjoying the sensation of the alcohol running down her throat and the warmth that followed. She had expected Lexa to begin this conversation. They were only here because Clarke had offered to tell her what little she knew about Wallace from her first, and only, meeting with the guy. But Lexa didn’t say anything at all. In fact, all she did was sit there, her glass of scotch untouched. It was only then that Clarke realized that she didn’t want to be the one to start this conversation. It was easier to be tugged back into darker memories than to dig up the past yourself.

“So,” Clarke broke the silence after her second sip. “What exactly do you know about me?” Her question was greeted first by silence as she felt the brunette shift beside her.

“Only what I’ve read in your file and what you’ve told me,” Lexa answered. “And that your organizational skills could use some work.”

Clarke smiled at that last bit before taking another sip. “So then you know about Mount Weather.”

“We don’t have to talk about that, Clarke.”

“Yes we do,” Clarke’s grip tightened around her glass. “It’s where I met Cage.” She was met with even more silence, but this quiet lacked comfort. It wasn’t calm or even awkward, but a demand. She couldn’t decide where to start. She could start at the very beginning, but all those details had already been told. If Lexa had already read her file than she already knew how she ended up in Mount Weather.

“I actually met his father first,” Clarke began, her focus settling on the bottle of whiskey. “Dante Wallace. He would come by our floor every Wednesday. He believed that art could help heal the soul so he would bring art supplies with him. Every Wednesday everybody on our floor would be allowed into the common room to paint.”

It surprised her how quickly her words lured her back. How quickly she was back in that common room, surrounded by other patients, armed with a small blank canvas and a rainbow of paints. The first few weeks, Clarke wouldn’t paint at all. It reminded her too much of her life that lingered just beyond these walls. It reminded her of what had been taken from her. Dante’s words had been nothing but a constant hum until she had decided to pick up the paint brush.

“He would always make an effort to talk to us, even if we didn’t want to talk,” Clarke continued. “Each week he would get to know us better. He wanted to know what I was going to do after I got out.” A smirk tugged at Clarke’s lips. “I didn’t have any plans because I didn’t think I was ever going home.” Her smirk fell as she finished off her glass of whiskey. “A few days later I got a visit from his son, Cage. He talked about how much potential his father saw in me, and then offered me a job. I took it and a week later I was released.”

It was on that day, when Clarke had been taken from Mount Weather and placed before the judge who had sent her there, that she realized how deep Cage’s pockets truly ran.

“He’s recruiting from Mount Weather,” Lexa said, her voice pulling her back.

Clarke leaned forward and grabbed the whiskey bottle. “It’s how he recruited me.” She poured herself another glass. “I can’t say the same for everyone else.”

“But his father is also involved,” Lexa replied. “If he’s helping his son recruit people, then we could get to Cage by using his father.”

Clarke leaned back into the couch and allowed her head to drop gently onto Lexa’s shoulder. She took a sip of her fresh glass of whiskey. “That’s a big _if_. Cage only talked about how much his father liked me. He never said that Dante told him to recruit me into his criminal empire.” She took another generous sip, waiting for Lexa’s response. Her gaze fell to Lexa’s untouched glass of scotch.

“Clarke.”

The blonde’s gaze traveled up, noting the woman’s sharp jawline. When her eyes met Lexa’s there was an odd mix of panic and…

Clarke’s cheeks flushed as she quickly picked her head up off of Lexa’s shoulder. “Shit. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No, I do. I didn’t mean to...I mean I did but not like-”

“Clarke, it’s really not-”

A knock on the door brought forth another awkward silence and the perfect excuse for Clarke to slip away from this particular conversation. Setting her glass down, Clarke quickly stood up and made her way towards the door. She was hardly concerned about who would be at her door and far more worried about why she had thought it would be a good idea to lay her head on Lexa’s shoulder. Sure, she thought the woman was hot and liked being around her, but clearly Lexa didn’t share the same feelings.

“Hey, Griffin!”

Clarke blinked, suddenly aware that she had opened the door and none other than Raven was standing on her doormat with a brightly colored gift bag in her hand. Before Clarke could even get a word out, Raven shoved the gift bag into her hand and stepped right on into Clarke’s apartment.

“Happy Birthday, Griffin,” Raven said as she walked past Clarke and unzipped her coat.

Clarke closed the door. “My birthday was two weeks ago.” She glanced down at the brightly colored gift bag. Bright blue tissue paper was protruding from the top of the bag. The bag was also kind of heavy.

“And _hello_ to you too.”

Clarke’s head whipped up from the gift bag. Raven had walked right past Clarke and straight into the living room where Lexa still sat on the couch. Clarke quickly followed after Raven and set the gift bag on the kitchen counter. “Now really isn’t a good time, Rae.”

“It’s alright, Clarke,” Lexa stood up and collected her coat. “I should be going.”

“Oh, uh...okay,” she could already _feel_ Raven’s smirk without even looking at the woman. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good,” Lexa replied.

She left without taking her bottle of scotch with her.

“I knew it,” Raven said only seconds after the door had closed. “I knew she was into you.”

Clarke was tempted to roll her eyes and tell Raven to shut it, but then that wouldn’t make any sense. Raven had seen her walk out of Tondc with Lexa. So instead, Clarke shrugged and walked back over towards the living room table to collect the liquor bottles. “It was a fun night.”

“It must have been more than that if she chose to stick around,” Raven grinned.

“Is there a reason you stopped by?” Clarke asked, eager to switch topics.

Raven plucked the gift bag up off the kitchen counter and held it out to Clarke. “I already told you. Happy belated birthday.”

Clarke set the bottles down and grabbed the bag. She removed some of the tissue paper and dipped her hand into the bag. The tips of her fingers brushed against something metallic, and smooth. The blonde’s brow furrowed before she pulled out what was inside the bag. She immediately dropped the object back into the bag.

“Raven!” blue eyes shot back to her grinning best friend. “I don’t want it.” She held the gift bag back out to Raven, but her friend didn’t reach for it.

“It’s yours,” Raven replied.

“I don’t want it,” Clarke repeated.

Raven shrugged. “Too bad. It’s yours.”

Just fucking great.

“Why the hell are you giving me a gun?”

“Because,” Raven replied. “We’re going to kill Wallace.”


	4. Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that! I can write a clexa scene that doesn't involve them eating.

“We are _not_ killing Wallace.”

“Yes, we are.”

This had to be a joke. There was no way Raven could be serious about this. But as Clarke waited for the punchline, the weight of the gift bag only grew heavier. There was no smirk or smile on her friend’s face. This wasn’t a joke. But why? Of all the people in Polis, why would her friend want to kill Cage Wallace? Well, perhaps the question wasn’t exactly _why_. Clarke could come up with a hundred reasons why someone would want to kill Wallace. The real question was why Raven thought it was good idea to try to kill him.

“Raven,” Clarke began when the silence was becoming too uncomfortable. “This is a _terrible_ idea.”

Raven walked over and flopped down onto the couch. “It’s better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen.”

No. No, this idea was _not_ better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen to Wallace. If Cage, or even Emerson, found out about Raven’s grand idea then they were dead. No warnings. No surprise visits meant to scare the shit out of them to fall back in line. Just Emerson showing up at their doorsteps ready to bury bodies.

“How long have you been planning this?” Clarke asked. “This is a bit sudden, Rae, and you seemed fine yesterday.”

“It’s called an act, Griffin,” Raven replied. “We’ve been planning this for awhile.”

“Wait. _We_?”

“Bellamy finally managed to get a hold of the guns yesterday. Since you went off on your play-date, I volunteered to drop your gift off personally.”

Clarke blinked. Bellamy was in on this too? And since when….

Setting the gift bag onto the coffee table, the blonde shook her head. This was all too much, too fast. First Raven showed up and gave her gun. Now there’s a plan to kill Cage, and Bellamy was apart of this. “Who else knows about this plan to kill Wallace?”

The look Raven gave her made Clarke feel like she had asked her friend the stupidest question in the world.

“Everyone.”

She didn’t mean to laugh. This was all insane. On top of everything that was going on between her and Lexa, this was the very last thing she needed.

“He needs to pay for what he did, Clarke,” Raven continued. “He lured you into this hellhole.”

“I’m not having that conversation with you again,” Clarke quickly snatched up the bottles of whiskey and scotch and retreated into the kitchen.

“What about Finn?” Raven pushed, following the blonde into the kitchen. “Are we not going to talk about him either?”

Both bottles slammed down onto the counter a bit more forcefully than intended. Clarke kept her fingers wrapped around the neck of both bottles in an attempt to conceal her shaking hands. Finn. Of course Raven had to bring him up. No. They weren’t going to have that conversation either. This was all stupid and crazy and...and all she can think about is Emerson sitting on her couch. The barrel of his pistol pressed against her cheek. Her one and only warning.

“The others are doing this because of Finn,” Raven continued after a moment. “I’m doing this for him too, but also for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” her fingers have turned white from her increasingly tight grip on the glass bottles. She didn’t ask for her friend to hatch this stupid plan. She didn’t ask for the others to get roped into this too. She never asked for Raven to follow her into this shit-show in the first place.

She waits for some sassy response, but all Clarke gets is silence. Ever so slowly, she peels her fingers away from the bottles. She wants out of this conversation, but she also wants Raven to drop this foolish plan entirely. If Bellamy only just managed to get a hold of weapons, that means that whatever her friend is planning hasn’t happened yet.

“I was going to talk to you about this sooner,” Raven began, shattering the uneasy silence. “But you’ve seemed a bit distracted lately.”

Lexa.

“Dante is holding an art exhibition next week,” Raven continued before Clarke could even think up some kind of excuse. “Cage is attending. The plan is to lure him away and finish him off before Emerson or any of his men catch on.”

Clarke turned to face Raven. “I highly doubt that Dante’s art exhibition is an open door event.”

“It’s not,” Raven replied, her brow furrowing. “It’s private. But everyone is invited. Didn’t you get your invitation?”

Clarke glanced over to the pile of mail she hadn’t touched in a few days. Dante Wallace had invited them to a private art exhibition? That was a first. She hadn’t seen or heard from Dante since her last week in Mount Weather. Not that she was offended by the silence. She had no urge to go rushing back to the old man. Just as she had no urge to rush into this crazy plan to kill Cage. But if Cage was going to be in attendance...and Clarke was invited…

“Sorry,” Clarke’s focus returned to her friend. “I’ve been...busy.”

She could feel her friend’s eyes on her as she reached over to snatch up the pile of mail. She quickly began to rifle through it. Pay day wasn’t for another two days, so Clarke’s interest in the junk mail she had received these past few days had been nonexistent. But if what Raven said was true then...shit.

Nestled between an overdue bill and a magazine, was a small, white envelope with her name and address written on it in black ink. Clarke quickly broke the envelope seal and pulled out a piece of card-stock that had a portrait of _The Starry Night_ on the front. On the back, in neat lettering, was the time and place listed for the art exhibition. Raven was right. They were all invited, and with Cage there... _this_ was the opportunity they had been waiting for. She had to tell Lexa.

“Everyone is meeting up at my place tomorrow night to go over the plan,” Raven’s voice pulled the blonde’s attention away from the invitation. “Iron out the kinks. That kind of stuff. You’re gonna be there, right?”

Her only shot at crossing paths with Cage Wallace had just been handed to her. Actually, it had technically been sitting on her kitchen counter, but there was a sense of finality surrounding the fancy invitation in her hands. A permanence that she couldn’t quite shake off. This was what Clarke had been seeking since the day she had agreed to Lexa’s deal. This was her chance, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

And yet, regardless of the insanity of her friend’s plan, she also couldn’t shake free of her friend’s words.

_He needs to pay for what he did._

But he _will_ pay. That was the whole point of working with Lexa. Expose Wallace, watch his whole organization crumble, and walk away with a whole new life. A clean slate.

But what if it didn’t work? Lexa had already mentioned that things weren’t going well. What if this one chance yielded no results? Then what? Cage would remain in business, untouchable. Everything would just continue on and eventually Lexa would leave, pulled away by other cases. Killing Cage would put a stop to all this.

“I can’t,” her words felt weak, hollow. Her thoughts crashing, and roaring within her mind. Cage needed to pay. She can’t fuck up this chance. What if it didn’t work? What if Cage found out and killed them all? Lexa. “I’m not a killer.”

She waited for Raven’s response. She waited for the disappointment, the anger, to cross her friend’s face. But instead, Raven only nodded and took a step back. “Alright. But if you change your mind, you know where we’ll be tomorrow night.”

Clarke leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Raven walked out of the kitchen and then, a minute or two later, out of her apartment. It didn’t dawn on Clarke until later on, when she returned to the living room, that Raven hadn’t taken her gift back.

 

* * *

 

 

The constant hum of the lights above couldn’t settle the warring thoughts within her mind. First, there was Dante Wallace. This was not the first time that Lexa had considered that the father was aiding the son. But she never had any proof to back up any of those theories. She still didn’t. She just had Clarke.

And there it is. Her focus crumbling underneath the memory of the blonde. The soft warmth that emanates from those sky blue eyes. Her smile. The gentle weight of her head upon her shoulder. She shouldn’t have let that moment linger for as long as it had. Yet, she felt no guilt. No. She did feel guilt, but that guilt was reserved for breaking that moment.

The slamming of a door jerked Lexa from her thoughts. Her gaze lifted from the computer screen and landed on her partner.

“Figured I might find you here,” Anya commented as she made her way over to her desk that sat directly across from Lexa’s. She draped her coat over the back of her chair before taking a seat. “The analysis of the syringes found in Patrick O’Sullivan’s bedroom last night came in exactly as we predicted.”

No surprise there.

Anya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Which means that we still have nothing against Wallace. How was your morning? I noticed that you were gone longer than usual.”

Focus. She needed to _focus_.

“Dante Wallace is part of this,” Lexa replied. “He’s recruiting his son’s drug runners out of Mount Weather.” She had done a brief search immediately after arriving at the station on all of Clarke’s friends. All, except for one, had been admitted to the facility. Her search on Dante had yielded the same results back when she and Anya had first suspected that Cage’s business had ties to family. Yet, these results only aided Clarke’s story. Dante was a volunteer at Mount Weather, and the man owned a private art gallery in Polis.

“Do we have proof?” Anya asked.

“Not yet,” Lexa admitted. “But we will.”

The smirk had only just settled on her partner’s face when the door to their small office burst open. Anya’s smirk fell away at the sight of Commissioner Pike standing in the doorway. The tie around his white collared shirt hung loose and his hand clutched a rolled up newspaper. The door behind him swung shut as he tossed the newspaper onto Lexa’s desk. Neither Lexa nor Anya needed to even glance at the newspaper to know what this visit was about.

“In case either of you were wondering, I just spent the afternoon with the Mayor,” Pike said, looking back and forth between Lexa and Anya. “He wasn’t pleased with today’s headline.”

Lexa glanced down at the newspaper. As she had predicted, the headline was about last night’s crime scene with all its gruesome details.

“We’re working our leads,” Anya replied.

“Work _faster_ ,” Pike pressed. “The Mayor is tired of waiting and wants this madman off our streets.”

A buzzing in her pocket pulled Lexa’s attention away from a conversation she and Anya already had a dozen times with Pike. They were working as quickly as they could, but putting Cage behind bars required thorough work, not a rush job. Lexa pulled her phone from her pocket. Clarke’s name flashed across her screen along with the message attached to it.

_I founjd somethgni. Toncd._

Pike was still talking, but Lexa wasn’t listening. She shot back a quick text before standing up to grab her coat. “I’ve got to go.” If the Commissioner had said anything about her abrupt exit, she couldn’t remember. The only thing she could focus on was Clarke’s message.

 

* * *

 

 

The drive from the station to Tondc was unusually fast. Evening had slipped into night, and traffic was light. During the course of her drive, Lexa didn’t receive another text from Clarke. She didn’t know what the blonde could have found since their morning together, but the fact that the woman was obviously drunk didn’t sit well.

The bar was crowded, as it typically was from Lexa’s observations, but she found Clarke sitting at the bar, alone instead of with her friends at a table. A quick survey of the establishment only added to Lexa’s confusion. Clarke’s friends weren’t here. Lexa made her way over to the bar where she found Clarke slumped over, her head resting on the wooden counter, eyes closed.

“You her ride?”

Lexa looked behind the bar where the bartender was staring at her while wiping dry a clean mug.

The bartender gestured to the blonde. “I cut her off a little while ago. If you’re taking her home, I’ll get you a bag. She had a bit too much.”

Lexa glanced around the establishment again before returning her attention to the bartender. “Where are her friends?”

The bartender shrugged and set the mug onto a growing tower of other clean mugs. “Dunno. Let me get you a bag.” The bartender turned and walked off.

Lexa’s gaze fell back onto the blonde. She was dressed in the same outfit she wore in the morning which wasn’t ideal at all for the colder weather. Lexa slipped out of her coat and draped it over the blonde’s shoulders. Her hand came to rest against the blonde’s back, gently rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades in an attempt to wake her up.

“Clarke. Wake up.”

The bartender returned and placed a brown paper bag on the counter. Lexa sent up a quick prayer to any listening spirits that the bag wouldn’t be necessary. Clarke’s eyelids fluttered open and a groan soon followed.

“Lexa?”

Every letter slurred together as glassy, sky blue eyes stared up at her. Clarke lifted her head off the wooden counter, her lips curling into a smile.

“You’re just in time for another round.”

“Nope,” the bartender replied before Lexa could even get a word out. “You’re cut off.”

Clarke’s smile fell away as her gaze shifted towards the bartender. The blonde shot the bartender a glare, but before Clarke could get another slurred word out, Lexa cut in.  
“I’m going to take you home, Clarke.”

The distraction worked, as the blonde looked back over to Lexa, her glare disappearing and whatever words she had for the bartender were forgotten. Lexa’s hand, that she suddenly now realized had remained on the blonde’s back, quickly fell to Clarke’s waist as the blonde struggled to stand. Giggles slipped from the blonde’s lips as Lexa draped Clarke’s arm around her shoulders so the woman could lean on her and not fall flat on her face. Doing her best to ignore the warm weight now pressing against her side, and Clarke’s soft breaths tickling her neck as the blonde rested her head on her shoulder, Lexa returned her attention to the bartender.

“How much?”

The bartender shrugged again before picking up the brown paper bag. “Doesn’t matter. She’s got a tab.”

Clarke reached out and swiped the bag from the bartender which Lexa _really_ hoped they wouldn’t need. The walk from Tondc to the parking lot took far longer than necessary with Lexa doing most of the actual walking. When they finally reached the car, Lexa opened the passenger’s side door, but Clarke made no move to get in.

“You came,” she whispered against the skin of her neck. Her grip on the blonde’s waist tightened for a flicker of a moment.

“You texted me, Clarke,” Lexa replied, fighting back every selfish thought that slithered past her defenses.

“I found something,” her words grew even quieter.

“You can show me what you found in the car,” Lexa said, which only earned a giggle from the blonde.

“We do a lot of things in your car, but not the things we want to do.”

Lexa hoped the night hid the blush on her cheeks as she helped Clarke into the car. The task proved far more difficult than expected. First, Clarke didn’t want to get into the car because she claimed that she was already warm and didn’t want to be cold again. Lexa resolved that issue by sliding the blonde’s arms into the sleeves of her coat that she had draped over her shoulders. Then, Clarke decided that she was perfectly fine and wanted to have another drink. When Lexa finally got Clarke situated in the car, she couldn’t help but feel like she had just come home from a long battle. She was also cold, now that no longer had her coat, so Lexa slipped into the driver’s seat and started up the car.

“Don’t take me home,” the blonde announced as Lexa turned on the seat warmers. “Drop me off at the bus stop.”

Green eyes settled back on the blonde who was slouched in the seat, her head resting against the car window. Lexa had already decided that she wasn’t going to just drop Clarke off at a bus stop, but Lexa wasn’t ready to engage in that battle yet.

“What did you find?”

Clarke picked her head up, her lips curling back up into a smile as her hand dug beneath the coat. A moment later, Clarke pulled out a fancy piece of card-stock. “Wanna be my date?”

Lexa took the card from Clarke. On the front was a portrait of _The Starry Night_. Lexa flipped the card over and read the words written in fine, black ink.

 **You Are Hereby Invited To**  
**The Thirteenth Annual Art Exhibition**  
**Hosted by Dante Wallace**

Clarke hiccuped. “I dunno if you can bring a date or not. I’ve never been invited before.”

Lexa stared at the invitation, not quite believing what she was seeing. Endless nights spent working every lead she could dig up, and now she had it. She had her shot. She looked down at the bottom of the invitation for the date. Next week. Not a lot of time to work with.

A groan pulled Lexa’s attention away from the invitation as Clarke leaned forward in her seat. Knowing full well what was about to happen next, Lexa quickly snatched up the paper bag and handed it to Clarke.


End file.
